Found Family Bingo: Ace Attorney
by Candaru
Summary: A series of gen oneshots designed for the Found Family Bingo game on tumblr! Chapters are titled by pairing and prompt. (Platonic and familial pairs; no shipping; rated T for safety and possible heavy themes. Fluff and hurt/comfort only, no straight angst.)
1. Grief, Mourning: Apollo & Klavier

(A/N: Guess who finally started on her Found Family Bingo? I also decided to stick within the AA fandom, since it somehow makes it less overwhelming to choose characters. I'll probably stick with my own brotps, but if you have a platonic or familial pairing you're dying to see, suggest it within your review and I might take a shot! If you don't know what this is or you're looking for a FFB card of your own, check out foundfamilybingo on tumblr ^^)

(As usual, and per the rules of FFB, **these fics will contain no shipping,** and I respectfully ask that your reviews don't either!)

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**Prompt/s:** Post-Tragedy Comfort; Grief/Mourning  
**Type of Gen:** Friendship  
**Characters:** Apollo & Klavier

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Klavier was the last person Apollo expected to see at the graveyard.

It was… jarring, to say the least. For one, Apollo planned his trips almost religiously during times when the cemeteries would be statistically empty. This often meant coming late at night, bundled in the warmest clothes he could scrap together, and hoping he didn't look too much like a hobo on his way to rob a grave.

But more unsettling was the fact that Klavier simply didn't mesh with _that_ aspect of Apollo's life. It was like when he was back in middle school, ditching class with Clay, only to run into one of his teachers mapping out a field trip at the space center. It simply wasn't _right._ Teachers belonged at school, and Klavier… well, Klavier belonged to the courtroom, the stage, or the scene of a crime. But not the _graveyard._

And then, most concerning of all was the look Apollo had caught on Klavier's face just before the prosecutor noticed he was there. It seemed… distant. Unfamiliar. But the instant Apollo came into his sightline, it quickly contorted into the charming smile that made him recognizable to the rest of the public.

"Don't tell me there's been a murder here," the blond joked, his tone playful and light. "That would be far too ironic."

In the courtroom, Apollo tried his best to put up with Klavier's endless stream of bad jokes. Even investigating, he always strived to maintain a professional attitude. But tonight— with heavy thoughts tugging at his chest while the stars above mocked his grieving— tonight, he really wasn't in the mood.

"I once knew an astronaut who died just outside his spaceship before it took off," he shot back sourly. "How's that for ironic?"

Klavier winced and turned away slightly, and for a moment something changed on his expression. "Right… not in the mood for jokes, then."

There was a pause after that, during which the defense attorney seriously considered whether it would be faster to book it across the graveyard or just back to his bike at the front of the lot. Clay's grave was near the very back, nestled in-between the names of two strangers whose lives he knew nothing about, but Apollo knew the way by heart. He reasoned if he left now, he could probably go on with his night and forget this encounter ever happened.

To his surprise, however, Klavier suddenly shook his head and started walking in the very direction he intended to go.

"I won't keep you any longer," he said, his voice still confident, but with a careful sort of sincerity it lacked before. If anything, he knew how to handle social situations.

Unfortunately, Apollo did not.

"Sorry to say," he stated bluntly, picking up the pace to catch up with Klavier's long strides, "but I'm going the same way." This time, he didn't catch the shift in the taller man's expression, and after a pause, it suddenly occurred to him to ask, "Why are you here, anyway?"

Klavier didn't stop walking, but he was silent for a moment as he stared blankly ahead, his expression unreadable. When his voice came out, it was devoid of all emotion. "...My parents."

Apollo tried to blink off his surprise. "Really? I— I'm sorry." He suddenly regretted the statement— he hated when people told _him_ they were sorry like that, with their pitying expressions that would never understand— but he was caught too off-guard to say anything else. Suddenly worried the loss was a recent wound he'd just poured salt into, he added, "When—?"

"Don't worry, it's nothing new," Klavier stated again. His voice was cold and uncaring in a way that suited him as well as he suited the graveyard— that is to say, not at all. Almost as an afterthought, he threw in, "My mother died giving birth to me. My father passed away a year after. The doctors say he had heart problems, but Kristoph is convinced it was due to grief."

It was at this point Apollo finally looked up, and felt his blood run cold. Not from the tragic story— he was used to hearing, even _living_ those. But what scared him was the expression he glimpsed on the prosecutor's face as he told it, blue eyes lifeless and far-off. A stern, practiced look that suddenly reminded Apollo how horrifyingly similar he looked to his old mentor.

Fearing anything he said would come out the wrong way, but not wanting to say 'sorry' again, the defense attorney simply choked out "oh" as he continued to walk. To his chagrin, Klavier continued to stride alongside him, not speaking any further. Apollo found suddenly that he regretted pushing Klavier's suave, rockstar persona away— had he known what lay beneath, he probably would've left well alone.

Although, whether the cold gaze was his true face or yet another layer of unspoken lies, he had yet to determine.

"So, um." Apollo cleared his throat, still unsure of what to say but unable to endure the frigid silence any longer. A thought that had been nagging at the back of his mind slipped out quietly, almost fearfully. "I guess, if your parents didn't…"

"Kristoph raised me," Klavier affirmed, still staring ahead blankly. Thumbs still tucked into his pockets. Still walking in long, easy strides as if the weight of the graveyard was nothing to his shoulders.

Then, abruptly, he stopped and took a deep, audible breath. For a moment, Apollo feared he was going to confront him for prying— but when he looked down, his familiar, easygoing facade was back. "Sorry to bother you," he apologized, his voice so different it was like someone had flipped a switch. "The _Friedhof_ isn't a place to be acting harsh towards a fellow man, ja?"

Apollo looked down at the dark soil beneath his feet and shook his head. "No, it's okay. I kinda started it."

"Well, I imagine we're all weighed down by the heavy air tonight. Stay warm, ja?"

He knelt down by the two gravestones immediately next to the path, and Apollo realized Klavier had already reached his destination— which meant he could walk the rest of his own way in peace.

So why was he suddenly plagued by the thought that he didn't want to?

No— not even that he didn't _want_ to. That he _shouldn't._ That it wouldn't be _right._

Because, to his chagrin, Apollo realized for the first time in his life that Klavier— like all the clients Apollo swore to protect— had no one to turn to. No family left since his own brother was thrown in jail, probably no close friends after what Apollo had heard concerning the breakup of the Gavinners. And as jealous as he might've been towards the crowds of adoring fans, Apollo knew they weren't the same.

"...Um." Apollo cleared his throat, and Klavier looked up from where he knelt. Before he even had time to reprimand himself for how socially awkward he was, he blurted out, "Do you… have anyone to talk to?"

Klavier raised one eyebrow, then flashed his disarming, happy rockstar smile again. "What does it look like I'm doing now?"

And in that moment, Apollo was terrified. Because, worse than the cold glare he'd been giving before, now Klavier was back to _smiling_— but this time, without a shadow of a doubt, it was _fake._

Like_ his._

The defense attorney could practically feel his own nerves already screaming to get out, to book it to the back of the graveyard, to huddle up next to the little tree he liked and count the stars and forget what he'd just seen.

But instead, he forced his body into a kneeling position, right next to the man he considered an enemy in court.

"...Herr Forehead, I think you've got the wrong tombstone," Klavier joked. But it wasn't a joke. It was a _threat._ To do what, Apollo didn't know. But the rockstar was still grinning right at him, horrifyingly realistic and yet not at all convincing, as if to say, _I know you know this is a lie._

Apollo took a shaky breath, trying to reassure his now-pounding heart that Klavier wasn't the sort of person who would just lean over and deck him if he misspoke. (And, if he was, well— Apollo knew the escape route by heart.)

"Can't I pay respects to people I've never met?" Apollo retorted carefully. "Like you said, the graveyard isn't a place to be acting harsh to one another."

Actually, he wasn't entirely sure that _was_ what Klavier said, but he acted confident and hoped the context clues hadn't mislead him.

"...Even so," Klavier replied after a pause, "some passerby might consider you rude for intruding on another man's personal grief. I wouldn't want to be responsible for the downfall of the great ace attorney Apollo Justice."

His jabs were thin-veiled, now, but it was too late to back away.

"I'll leave if you really want me to," Apollo stated uneasily. He wondered if he should've listened to his instincts the first time— and yet, his instincts were what told him to stay, weren't they? "But I know… at least, in my experience… it can help to share that 'personal grief' with someone else."

To anyone else, Klavier would've looked like an Egyptian statue, not moving a muscle in response to the defense attorney's words. But out of the corner of his eye, Apollo perceived his fists ever so slightly clenching onto his night-black jeans. His perfect smile twitching just a touch at the corner.

It was silent for a very long, very stressful moment.

"Even if what you say is true," Klavier said carefully, not turning his face towards Apollo, "Why would you want to be the one to bear that burden?"

The question was asked with a sort of definite finality. Like the hypotheticals asked of a witness just before their lies were torn apart, or a dying man's last words.

As such, Apollo thought carefully before answering.

"...I guess," he replied, mustering up as much conviction as he could in his wavering voice, "because I know how it feels to be alone."

Silence. For the final time, Apollo thought— no, worse than that, suddenly became _certain—_ that he'd said the wrong thing. That he was going to have to live the rest of his life knowing the smile at the prosecutor's bench was a lie. That something which was locked away for years would never be opened again.

Then he heard a choked sob.

His bracelet suddenly cut off circulation to his wrist as, alarmed, he fully turned his head to see Klavier's shoulders rising and falling, hands still clenching onto the rough-looking denim, head bowed low in a way he would never have thought possible for someone so confident.

And then— before he even knew what was happening— suddenly the clenched hands were on _him._ Gripping his shoulders with vice-like strength while Klavier tried to steady his breath. Apollo jolted at the unexpected contact, but suddenly realized from the water pricking at the other's eyes that he couldn't pull away.

It occurred to him somewhere in his mind that he had never been so terrified in one night. First at the first facade, then at the second, and now at seeing what was left when both were removed.

But once Apollo started pursuing the truth, he never backed away. He leaned into it, wherever it led him. So that's what he did.

And Klavier returned the motion in full force, almost violently pulling the smaller lawyer to his chest, wrapping his arms around Apollo and gripping him as if he were the only thing keeping him afloat. Which, Apollo had already realized, he _was._

So he held the stronger man back, bracing himself against the ridiculous strength that crushed him like a child, and reminding himself silently not to let the fear overtake him. Because as Klavier's sobs grew louder and more unsteady, trying and failing to reign in or at least slow down the pain that had finally found an outlet, Apollo felt his own panic growing higher and heavier in his chest. Not even from the physical crushing force, although he had never been fond of small spaces, but the fear of just how _heavy_ the grief was that he'd agreed to help carry.

"H-Herr," Klavier's voice suddenly choked out, "Apollo."

It took a solid minute for Apollo to fully register why his own name sounded so foreign coming from Klavier's mouth, and his stomach flipped a little once he did. He waited for the rest of the sentence to come out in-between muffled sobs, but realized a few minutes later that that was it. His name _was_ the sentence— and somehow, Apollo knew what it meant.

He tightened his grip in response, watching his own eyesight finally start to blur up as he realized in what felt like a stupidly simple, and yet new revelation: that Klavier was just a _person._ Not a rockstar, not a prosecutor, but a human being that suffered and laughed and feared and grieved and _felt _exactly like Apollo did.

Klavier still hadn't pulled away. He didn't pull away for a long time. Apollo didn't make him. Who knows how long he'd suffered on his own? And besides, as the vice-grip finally loosened up a bit and he was able to breathe again, Apollo realized the shared body heat was kind of nice against the chilled night air.

Up in his blurred peripheral vision, a shooting star whizzed past.

Apollo smiled, seeing it as a thumbs-up from the other side.

He didn't wish for anything.


	2. Road Trip: WAA & Pearl

(A/N: An AU (?) where Phoenix _does_ eventually get his driver's license, but still wrecks havoc on the road. You get no further context... yet.)

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**Prompt/s:** Road Trip  
**Type of Gen:** Group (Found Family)  
**Characters:** Phoenix, Apollo, Athena, Trucy, Pearl

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"Guys, will you PLEASE keep it down back there?!"

Apollo groaned as a trio of high-pitched giggles answered him from the backseat. He was pretty sure he heard one apology mixed somewhere in there, but it was loudly overshadowed by Athena's yelling.

"It's not our fault your music is trash!" she insisted, sticking out her tongue.

"I can see you without turning around, y'know," he shot back, glaring into the rearview mirror.

"Well, that's kind of the point, isn't it, silly?" Trucy piped up. "I mean, that'd be like me doing THIS—

Apollo yelped and scrunched up his neck as his sister blew on it from behind—

"—and you telling me, 'hey, I felt that!'"

The girls again broke out into giggles at Trucy's "impression" of Apollo; a deep voice she often used to make fun of the fact that her brother's wasn't.

"Mr. Wright, can I give them pay cuts?" Apollo asked, glancing now to the driver that sat beside him. His mentor, clad in his old beanie and hoodie but now clean-shaven, simply laughed.

"'Fraid that won't be for quite a few promotions yet, Apollo," he responded, veering the car into the next lane over.

"Daddy, you forgot to use your turn signal again!" Trucy pouted.

"Your driving _is_ pretty bad, Mr. Wright," Athena agreed, frowning and furrowing her brow.

"Hey, watch it. _I_ can still cut your pay, y'know."

Athena's shoulders jolted as she bowed in apology, already grabbing Trucy by the shoulders and asking her if she'd be a witness to her case. Apollo shook his head and stared out the window, letting their conversation drift off into white noise. At least Pearl was being quiet.

However, it wasn't too long after that he was jolted out of peaceful nothingness once again by his sister's breath on the back of his neck.

"Hey! Quit it!" he yelped, turning helplessly to his boss.

"You did choose to sit shotgun," the driver pointed out with a smirk, looking over at Apollo. "Fought tooth-and-nail for it, too."

"Please just keep your eyes on the road," Apollo sighed. Although _he'd_ never dare say it out loud, the Turnabout Terror lived up to his name both in the courts and on the streets, which was the reason he'd bargained so desperately with Athena for the shotgun seat to begin with.

"I wouldn't exactly say we fought tooth-and-nail," Athena piped up helpfully, digging out a bag of Snackoos from the seat-pocket in front of her. "If there had been any actual fighting, I would've won."

From in-between the other two in the backseat, the quietest girl clasped her hands together in awe. "You're so strong, Athena!"

"Awww, you're too sweet," Athena replied coyly, wrapping her arms around the slightly-older girl. From her quiet demeanor, it was often easy to forget that Pearl wasn't the youngest of the group.

"Pollyyy," Trucy whined, poking Apollo's shoulders with winter-gloved hands.

"_What?"_

"Can you pass me my magic cards now?"

"No," Apollo replied firmly. "Mr. Wright is right, they'll—"

It took remarkable self-constraint not to comment on the snickering in the next seat over at what hardly even counted as a pun.

"—they'll make you carsick."

"But I'm _booooored!"_ Trucy complained.

For once, Apollo wasn't forced to be the lawman.

"We'll be stopping for lunch soon, Truce," Phoenix replied from the driver's seat. "You'll feel better once we get some food into you."

"Ehhh." Trucy stuck out her tongue, knowing it wouldn't land her in any trouble with her father, but relented into quiet solitude after that, choosing to amuse herself by playing with Pearl's hair. (Apollo never understood why she was so willing to let people do that—_he_ hated when people messed up what took a good half-hour to do every morning.)

"Whaddya guys want for lunch?" Phoenix asked, practically slamming on the brakes to avoid a stray tumbleweed he probably could've seen coming far sooner if he was paying attention.

"SOOUBWAY!" Athena exclaimed, while at the same time Trucy yelled "NOODLES" and Pearl mumbled something Apollo couldn't hear.

"I don't want to pull this thing over three different times," Phoenix called back. "You're going to have to pick one."

"Didn't we bring food?" Apollo asked. Phoenix hitched a finger behind him.

"It's in the trunk. If _you_ want to climb back there, be my guest."

Apollo couldn't really argue there.

"I'm fine with eating anywhere, as long as it has coffee," he sighed.

"Amen to that," Phoenix agreed with a smile.

"Daddy," Trucy piped up after a minute of quiet discussion, "Pearly and I both want ramen."

"Ramen it is, then."

Apollo clutched the door handle, and the girls clutched onto each other, as the car sharply veered off the exit, creating an unpleasant _SCREEEEEECH!_ as it did.

"_Daddyyy,"_ Trucy groaned. "You don't have to make every turn last-minute, you know!"

Phoenix grinned, barely glancing to the left before turning onto a surface street. "Sorry, kid. Your papa dodges the road the same way he dodges Uncle Edgeworth's questions."

"MR. WRIGHT," Apollo and Athena chorused in exasperation, while Pearl fell into a fit of giggles.

"See? Pearls thinks I'm funny," Phoenix said smugly.

"Noo! Trucy is— AHAHAHA— ti-tickling m-me-he-heeeee!"

"Trucy," Phoenix reprimanded gently, but not before Athena had joined in the match, causing more shrieking in the backseat than ever before.

Apollo rolled his eyes in annoyance, but then noticed his mentor grinning over at him and shaking his head.

"Girls," he simply said, in that _can you believe it?_ tone of voice. Apollo couldn't help but grin back.

"I know, right?"

And just like that, he was actually glad to be on this road trip.

For now, anyways.


End file.
